Under the Knife(119)

(Options always options)

He had all the money he and his sister’s family would ever need.

He knew that Finney—

(who had somehow managed to survive, he had to give the stubborn bastard credit)

—even with all of his resources, would never be able to find him again should Sebastian not wish him to.

But he felt glad that he’d come back because he knew that Alfonso would have approved.

Now they were coming into sight, two dark silhouettes in front of the safety railing, near where he’d been standing earlier today with Finney. Sebastian approached as quickly as the ache from his broken ribs allowed.

What the hell are they doing?

As best he could tell, they were both right up near the cliff’s edge, like they were about to go off it, and in this damn dark he couldn’t tell for sure who was who. The gun and conduction gun were useless here: He might hit Wu.

No time for much of a plan.

In one swift movement—

(Pain, ignore the pain)

—he dropped his backpack and launched himself underneath the railing. He grabbed both of them roughly from behind (realizing only at the last moment that Finney had been standing behind Wu) and yanked them both back toward the railing. The pain from his ribs flared and threw him off-balance, and he tumbled backward, his right side crashing against the railing.

And against his cracked ribs.

His vision exploded into stars of agony.

One of them—

(Wu?)

(Or Finney?)

—fell against him. Instinctively, he grabbed for the pistol in his waistband, but in his pain, he dropped it.





FINNEY


… and then someone (Sebastian, who else but Sebastian could it be?) grabbed him from behind, by the shoulder, and pulled him back, before he could push her over.

Before he could accomplish his task and relish his moment of triumph.

His moment of triumph!

He staggered backward but, despite his injured leg, managed to keep himself upright. He felt something heavy land on his foot.

He looked down and, amazed, perceived it was his gun.

His gun.

Like manna from Heaven, his gun.

Then he had it in his hand, and he was pointing it at the two of them, both clutching the railing, mere paces away. They were panting, Wu draped across Sebastian, as if they were lovers.

This time he wasn’t going to hesitate.

He pulled the trigger …





RITA


It was like the weirdest dream.

She’d been going for help.

Then Finney’s voice, and the mud, and her inexplicable need to go to the cliff.

Now here, at the edge of the park, entwined with Sebastian on a metal railing.

Finney, too, just beyond the railing, standing between them and the cliff’s edge, grinning wildly. Behind them, the fire suddenly flared and brightened; and his face, badly burned on one side, flickered in it, like a demon in the flames of hell.

He was pointing a gun at them.

She closed her eyes and waited.

Spencer. I love you.

Darcy, I’m sorry. I failed you.

I failed both of you.





FINNEY


… but the trigger didn’t yield.

The gun didn’t fire.

The safety was on.

Should have practiced more.

He was fumbling for the lever with his thumb—

(Who knew it was so hard to fire a gun?)

—when beneath him, the muddy ground gave way …





RITA


Her teeth rattled, and she heard an immense rumbling—felt it in her chest, as if a tractor-trailer truck were zooming by inches away.

But no gunshot.

She opened her eyes.

The ground on which Finney had been standing was gone.

So was Finney.

Before her brain could process this, the wet earth she and Sebastian were standing on melted under their feet—

(mudslide California mudslide those happen in California after heavy rains)

—and she lost hold of the railing and started to fall.

No time even to cry out.





FINNEY


… and a roar.

His whole universe a huge roar.

He was falling.

Or was he flying?

Air whooshed across his ears, tickled his scalp.

As he fell (flew), he tumbled. No up or down. Only the roar and the tumbling. It was, he thought, like being in a gigantic washing machine.

He wasn’t frightened. Just exhausted. So it’s over. He was glad, relieved that he didn’t have to worry anymore, and that this miserable existence was ending.

He’d believed that he could somehow single-handedly fix things and set the cosmos back on its proper heading.

But he couldn’t.

He knew that now.

Now he realized killing Wu and her sister wouldn’t have made a difference. The promise of cosmic balance had been an illusion. The emptiness, the absence of her, would have remained.

In the instant before he smashed onto the rocks, and tons of wet earth entombed his broken body, he spoke his last word, which disappeared into the rumble of the tumbling mud.

Jenny.





SEBASTIAN


The edge of the cliff, and Finney, had disappeared.